


Snow on the Mountain

by thecookiemomma



Category: NCIS
Genre: Community: nfacommunity, M/M, NFA Challenge Response
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3359690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs and Tony are stuck up in a mountain cabin, waiting for a perp. They make some serious realizations as they wait for the snowstorm to pass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow on the Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Forces of Nature" and the "We Love Tony" Challenges on NFA

The night had been getting progressively colder, and the two of them were up in the mountains, trying to catch an elusive Petty Officer who had gone UA with sensitive information. Some days, Tony mused to himself, he would give anything for a good, old-fashioned murder case. However, the job required what it required, and he'd do it. They'd driven up into the park and rented a cabin for the night. Tony checked his phone – over the spotty signal – and groaned. 

Gibbs turned toward him, eyebrow raised in question. 

“Boss, it's supposed to snow about a foot tonight. They've even got us under a warning: Heavy winter weather and treacherous road conditions. Though whoever taught this weatherman to spell 'treacherous' enacted his own version of treachery on us all.” 

“Can it, DiNozzo. We've got food for a week, and maybe it'll give us an opening to spot Masterson.” Gibbs gazed over at the wood box, and Tony knew he was wondering about whether they had enough wood for the night. “Call McGee and Bishop and tell them we're on hold until further notice. What's the weather looking like back home?” 

“Cold and wet, but not dangerous. Or 'treacherous', as the guy said, Boss.” 

“You're gonna _think_ treacherous if you don't can it, DiNozzo.” Gibbs shook his head and began starting a small fire. 

“Yes, Boss. Calling the McLucky and the girl-Probie right now. I need to have one of them go over and feed the fish. Maybe I'll see if Tim can, or Abby. . .” He mused for a moment before pulling the phone back out and calling Tim and Ellie. 

Having done that, he settled in, sitting down in one of the chairs, naturally the one closest to the fire. He shivered and shifted, trying to get warm. 

“Hey, Boss!” Tony grinned, a strange thought just occurring to him. 

“Yeah?” Gibbs sounded like he was at the edge of his patience, but Tony pressed on anyway. 

“It's like _Frozen._ ” 

“What's like frozen? Pipes seem okay to me.” Gibbs looked up, somewhat worried. 

“No, Boss, _Frozen!_ The musical. Disney. 2013. All the rage with little girls. Some little boys, too.” 

“I don't know about all that anymore, DiNozzo.” 

“Oh, geeze, Boss, I'm sorry. Shutting up.” He hadn't even thought of that. He headslapped himself for even bringing it up. However, his mind wouldn't let it rest, and he found himself humming the tune. “The snow grows cold on the mountain tonight . . . not a footprint to be seen. It's a kingdom of isolation, and it looks like I'm the queen.” He kept humming, and somehow it helped him get warmer. 

He sung through the song in his head, keeping the vocal part to a quiet hum, and by the time he had finished it, Gibbs had the fire going strong enough to warm his toes. He sighed happily and leaned back, eyes starting to close in a warm doze. The next thing he knew, he woke up, stomach grumbling, and shook his head. He'd heard Gibbs puttering around the cabin as he slept, and now the older man sat on the couch, reading a book by the firelight. 

“Food on the table when you wake fully up, DiNozzo,” Gibbs spoke quietly, and Tony barely heard him over the crackling of the fire. 

“Thanks, Boss.” He stretched and stood, looking over at the food on the table. There was some kind of potato thing, hot dogs, and brown beans. It all looked good. He grabbed the plate and filled it, sitting back down on the couch next to Gibbs to eat. The silence between them stretched, but Tony didn't feel the need to fill it. It was comfortable, like the quiet moments between their cases, each working on forms and pieces. When things got _too_ tense there, he tended to ramble or act silly to keep everybody awake and aware. He didn't seem to need that tonight. 

Beyond the grunt of acknowledgment for the thanks, Gibbs stayed quiet, though Tony thought he caught him looking up at him from time to time over his reading glasses. After a long while, Gibbs spoke up. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, Boss, I'm fine. Why?” He tilted his head, curious as to what was bringing on the worry he could see in Gibbs' expression. 

“Been cold.” He jerked his head toward the door of the small cabin. 

“Well, yeah, it's snowing like . . . I don't have a comparison for it. Well, like the white snow in _Holiday Inn,_ but you don't want to hear about that, because it was asbestos showering down on Bing while he sang _White Christmas_. Not anybody's idea of a good holiday. Gibbs,” Tony knew he was rambling, and waited until Gibbs looked up from his book again. “I'm fine. I haven't felt the cold for several years. I may actually be getting more used to it. It's not making me feel that tightness in my chest anymore. Unless it gets _really_ windy. Then, yeah, I move a little more slowly. I still get the job done, though.” 

“Not talkin' about the job, DiNozzo. You been to see Pitt recently?” Gibbs' eyes flashed with concern. 

“Yes, oh, great one. I went to see Doctor Pitt about two months ago when we really started getting cold. He said he thinks I should be fine unless I get really chilled. If it's freezing, I shouldn't get extremely wet. Which, if you're being honest, no one really should.” He shrugged. 

Gibbs grunted his agreement, and returned to his book for a while. Tony pulled out his phone, and started playing a game of Tetris. It was possible to play without a good signal, so it would suffice until he had to charge the thing again. He had a small quick-charger with him, filled with enough juice to almost completely fill up his phone battery again, so they were okay without electricity. For a couple days, at least. 

He shrugged, thought about it for a while, and then decided to shut off his phone completely. He'd check before bed, but otherwise, he wanted to keep Rule 3 more than he wanted to entertain himself. For now, Bossman had his own phone, and anybody who couldn't reach him knew to call Gibbs – or anybody who was important enough to know so, anyway. He pocketed his phone, and looked over at Gibbs to tell him so, only to notice that the man had fallen asleep by the fire. He shook his head and stood up, cleaning up the table, putting the food back into a cooler to stick out in the snow. It was sealed shut, so it shouldn't attract too many things. He'd learned a few things over the years of working with Tim and Gibbs, and despite what everybody thought, he did listen. 

Gibbs stirred when he opened the door, but he calmed him by explaining, “just sticking the cooler out in the snow, Boss. Those hot dogs and beans'll warm up really nice tomorrow. I mean, we can do beanie weenies.” He stopped himself as Gibbs settled again, falling right back to sleep. 

Quietly, he finished the cleanup, and headed into the back room to lay down on the bed. He hadn't been sure how they would decide where to sleep, but Gibbs had decided that for them by bunking down on the couch. He undressed, pulling a pair of shorts and a tank top on, and crawling under the covers. The heat from the fire didn't reach all the way back in here, so he pulled all of the blankets over him, and waited the few moments it took to get warm. In moments after that, he was asleep. 

* * * 

Gibbs woke up, shook his head, and quietly groaned. He'd forgotten to put the food up. It was probably all bad now. They had a week's worth, but he didn't want to waste it. He stood up, stretching, moving to rummage around for the coffepot, and glanced over at the mess on the table. He gazed over at the empty table, his pre-caffinated mind not realizing that the table was empty for several long seconds. He scratched his head, then smiled slowly as he remembered Tony saying something about sticking the cooler out in the snow. He'd done the cleanup. Tony always had his six. 

He scooped the coffee grounds into the percolator and stepped outside to scoop the snow into the coffee pot. Luckily, there were still coals in the fireplace, so it wouldn't take that much to get it roaring again. He opened the door with a squeak and sighed. It was still coming down pretty quickly. They were going to be here a while. He scooped up the snow and stepped back in, setting the pot on the still-warm coals. He frowned, considering what to make for breakfast. There was bacon. He knew Tony really liked that. Maybe that and the beans. That'd work. 

He puttered around, making breakfast and making sure everything was shipshape. He caught himself smiling once or twice, and wondered why. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot to smile about. _Except that your Senior Field Agent is in the bedroom next door. That's plenty._ He shook off the errant thought, and finished plating the food up just in time for Tony to stumble lazily through the open doorway. 

“Mornin' Boss. That bacon smells good. And those are the beans from last night. Nice! Good choice. Bacon and beans. But, that means no beanie weenies. I can deal with that.” Tony shrugged, and his tank top rode up a little. Gibbs forced himself to look away. He'd always known his second was good looking, but Rule Twelve. And the trouble that came with breaking it. 

He snorted and gestured to the table. “Got more beans. Sit down and eat, DiNozzo.” 

“So, what's it like out there,” Tony asked between bites. 

“Still comin' down. Probably need to call McGee and tell him we won't be back today.” 

“I can do that, or you can. I turned my phone off. Figured I'd save it until yours died, if you wanted. Since there's not . . .” 

“Got a generator, but you're right. Wanna save the gas for an emergency. But we'll keep one lit and one off.” He gave Tony the smile that meant he thought he'd done a good job, and got a bright, happy grin in return. He decided to have Tony call him, but since he'd already turned off his phone, he grabbed his, and tossed it over to the other man. Tony caught it, surprised. It only took a quick lift of his eyebrow for him to get his point across, and Tony thumbed through the contacts, calling Tim with ease. 

“Hey, Probie.” He paused. “No, I have not killed him. He threw me the phone. Get over it.” Another, longer pause. “Yeah, well, that's what I was calling to tell you. It's still coming down. We're going to be here a while. It's like Arendelle before Ella got a hold on her . . .” 

“Of course I know that movie.” Pause. “Why do _you_ know it, McDisney?” He snorted, listening to Tim's answer. “Yeah, yeah, tell me another one. No.” Gibbs lifted that brow again, shamelessly taking advantage of Tony's willingness to put up with his silence – and his need to keep control of the situation – and Tony cut Tim off. “Look. As I said, I'm on the Boss' phone, and I'm getting the eyebrow. It's kind of like Jill Taylor's 'Look', only more powerful.” 

After another pause, he finally got the information out. “We're going to be here at least another day, McTardy. Probably more like two or three.” He waited for McGee to speak, then shook his head. “No, we've got food, and a couple days' worth of clothes. If we need more, we'll figure it out. We're manly men. It's not gonna kill us to wear jeans more than once.” He rolled his eyes at whatever McGee's response was. “Even me, Probie. Even me.” He snickered, and then shook his head again. “No, you're ambassador. You tell her. We'll be back as soon as we can, but it's pretty much impossible. We're going to keep one phone on at all times, so if something comes up, give one of us a call. If you get voice mail, call the other one.” He chuckled at something else, and then gave his farewells and hung up, tossing the phone back to Gibbs in a throw that was almost an exact mirror of the way he'd given it to him. 

“Taken care of, Boss,” he noted, unnecessarily. 

“Noticed, DiNozzo.” Gibbs teased, smirking a little. “Now, eat your breakfast. We gotta figure out what we wanna do with the day.” They fell silent, lost in their thoughts and eating quietly. 

They spent the day in a sort of daze, both men finding things to do. Tony organized their food into the shelves, making sure they both knew where things were. Gibbs sat on the couch, watching him, giving him orders, and reading his book. He didn't get as much reading done as he could have, because he kept watching Tony bend or stretch, appreciating the jeans and the fact that his shirt rode up a little every time he put something in the top shelf. He wanted to touch that skin, but knew Tony wasn't interested in an old Marine like him.

“Somethin' on your mind, Boss?” Tony asked, interrupting his thoughts. “This _is_ okay, isn't it? I could rearrange it somehow . . .” 

“Not the damn food, Tony,” Gibbs groused. He looked back down at his book, but found his ears warming with embarrassment. He knew the other man was still looking at him. He shook his head, and tried to focus on the words on the page, though he knew it was fruitless. 

“Gibbs, are you okay?” Tony moved over to the couch, looking at him closely, and Gibbs inwardly cursed his second's investigative skill. 

“M'fine,” Gibbs murmured, trying to downplay it. He looked up, which was probably a mistake. Tony was earnestly looking at him, and caught his eye. 

“You're not getting sick, are you? Because I'm not a very good nurse. I get annoyed with my patients . . . because I have no patience . . . nevermind. . . .” He babbled on like he was just as nervous as Gibbs was. 

“Not gettin' sick.” Gibbs assured him, and patted the seat beside him. Tony sat down and they looked at each other for a long moment. Gibbs could see his own worries and wants reflected in Tony's eyes, and he turned away. 

* * *

Tony sat down beside Gibbs, still worried about the other man. He had kept himself busy to prevent himself from saying anything, but when he caught Gibbs watching him like that, he had to make sure everything was okay. And when he came over to look, Gibbs' cheeks were pink. It worried him, because his boss was as healthy as a horse. Nothing fazed him. He continued to watch him, caught when his boss looked up. He was thunderstruck by what he saw. He knew Gibbs could say a lot without speaking, but he recognized exactly what he was saying. He stood up, stepping into the bedroom without thinking. He sat heavily down on the side of the bed, head in his hands. It was too much. He needed to get away. If he would have seen that back in DC, he would have gone out, gotten drunk, and forgotten the whole thing. 

He was in the process of thinking things through when he heard Gibbs stand up and join him, sitting down beside him on the bed. “Hey.” Tony ignored the implied entreaty. Gibbs laid a splayed, warm hand on his back. “Di . . .” He started to use Tony's last name again, but then paused and changed his mind. “Tony.” 

Tony looked up at that. 

Gibbs looked uncomfortable, and somewhat . . . nervous? Tony shook his head. Gibbs snorted softly. “Figure we're actually gonna have to talk about this.” 

“Much as neither of us wants to.” It was Tony's turn to offer a wry smile. “Heaven forbid.” 

The headslap that followed actually focused him, for all the fact that it was softer than usual. It was more like a tap on the head. 

“We could ignore it. Just keep going on like we're doing now.” 

“Could. That what you want?” Gibbs gazed at him, expression unreadable. 

“I'm not sure. I would love to start something with you, Gibbs, but I really don't want to fuck it up.” 

“Not gonna happen.” 

“You're positive of that.” His voice was slightly sarcastic, but he knew Gibbs understood what he meant. 

As proof, Gibbs grunted, and Tony shook his head. 

“Glad you're so sure, Gibbs.” 

“Jethro.” Gibbs spoke softly. “Call me Jethro.” 

“Ok.” Tony nodded, and set his hand on Gibbs' thigh, tentative and light. 

“I'm more likely to fuck it up than you are.” Gibbs' mutter was almost too soft to be heard. 

Tony quirked an eyebrow at him, holding the expression long enough to get his point across. 

Gibbs tried to give him a halfhearted glare, but it fell flat. “Been a long time, DiNozzo.” 

“If I'm calling you 'Jethro,' you're calling me Tony.” Tony slid the hand up higher, turning it over, asking silently for Gibbs to set his hand on it. Gibbs watched the move with his normal intense expression, then complied, settling his fingers between Tony's. Tony closed his eyes in relief. 

Tony sat there, holding Gibbs' hand, just enjoying the silence. After a moment, he chuckled. “I suppose we could be doing this on the couch, Boss.” 

“We could.” Gibbs returned the smile. 

“Although, we will be revisiting this later.” Tony looked over at Gibbs, watching him smirk as he replied. 

“We will?” 

“No reason for us to sleep apart tonight. Just sleep,” he added quickly when Gibbs lifted a brow in curiosity. 

“Point.” Gibbs nodded. 

They grinned at each other, Tony cherishing the little-boy grin on his . . . on Gibbs' face. Loath to let go of Gibbs' hand, he grasp a little harder and stood, trying not to pull too much as he moved. 

Gibbs looked askance at him, and Tony just returned the look with an insouciant grin of his own. “Look, Boss. I'm cold. If we're going to sit together and talk,” he paused, “or . . .not-talk, I want to sit in the warmest seat, not the room furthest away from the fire. Besides . . .” 

Whatever he was going to add was cut off when Gibbs' phone began to ring again. 

Unwillingly, Gibbs released Tony's hand and pulled out his phone, answering it with his usual, “Yeah, Gibbs.” Tony slid his arm through Gibbs' free arm, and gently pulled the two of them toward the couch. Gibbs sat down as he talked to the person on the other side. It was evidently McGee. Tony sat down beside him, and slid close, completely ignoring Gibbs skeptical expression. 

Tony watched as Gibbs rolled his eyes then asked for clarification. “You're sure, McGee? It's not Connors bein' cute?” He nodded, then seemed to realize that he'd actually need to speak. “Yeah, we'll come home when we can. Might be a while. Think DiNozzo sang 'Let It Snow' one too many times this winter.”

Tony snickered and waited for Gibbs to sign off and explain what Tim was talking about. 

“Masterson showed up at Connors' house. Ranted at him and threatened his little girl. Connors decked him and called the Yard.” Gibbs rolled his eyes, but there was something in them that was still bright. 

“You have got to be kidding me. So, our trip out here was . . .” He thought about his phrasing, then shook his head. “No, our trip out here was a fortuitous coincidence. And don't quote Rule 39 at me, Boss.” 

“Breakin' twelve. Might as well break thirty-nine today, too.” Gibbs said. 

Tony snorted. “Fair enough.” He leaned in, making sure to telegraph his intentions as he did, and gently touched his lips to Jethro's. They kissed for long moments, keeping their touches light, getting used to one another. 

Jethro deepened the kiss, conveying his feelings more accurately than he could have any other way. Tony was floored, and when he pulled back from their embrace to breathe, he laid his head on Jethro's shoulder, just feeling completely content. 

After a few moments, though, a thought struck him, and he started laughing. 

“What's so funny, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, arm sliding around his body to cradle him closer. 

“Boss . . .” Tony gestured to Gibbs' head, then to the fireplace, trying to curb his chuckles long enough to get his stupid thought voiced. 

“Just say it, Tony.” 

“There may be snow on the mountain, Boss, but there's fire in the hearth.” For the first time, the headslap was followed by a long, tender kiss.


End file.
